


Silver Star

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-04
Updated: 2009-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Texas Ranger!Jeff, meet Architect!Jensen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Star

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [spn_meanttobe]() challenge. My prompt was:  
> _Beneath the Badge === As a Texas Ranger, Hayes Keller was used to tough assignments. But protecting Taylor Landis after a recent attack and keeping his professional distance was the most challenging job Hayes had ever faced. Every instinct told him not to let her get under his skin, but sticking by her side--all day and through the hot summer night--was pushing him to the limit. _

Jeff Morgan hated hospitals. There was good reason to be there--Jeff couldn't argue with a man who refused to leave his friend and business partner, not even to meet with the people supposed to be protecting him--but even walking down the halls, passing white coats and scrubs and the occasional patient out walking slowly with a hovering relative and trailing IV pole, was enough to make Jeff's shoulders and jaw tighten. He kept his mouth shut, though, and followed his lieutenant into the small conference room that had been set aside for them. The Austin city police were already there, as well as representatives from the Travis County sheriff and the Texas State DPS. With Jeff and Lt. Martinez there from the Rangers, it made a full house. Everyone had stacks of manila folders with them, messy and thick, notes and photos spilling out of them as everyone set them down on the polished wood table and worked on their defensive postures. The only thing that would make it worse in Jeff's mind would be if the feds were on the case, too, but since everything had happened inside the borders of Texas, they were on their own.

For now.

There was a silent jockeying for who was going to run the meeting. Jeff didn't give a good goddamn; all he wanted was to get it over with, so he could get on with his job, but he ground his teeth and pretended like it was important. The Austin chief won out, finally; technically, they were all sitting in his jurisdiction, even if the "incidents" had happened all over the damn state, with the most recent, and serious, out in Travis County. It turned out not to be a bad thing: the aide who actually gave the briefing was concise and organized. Jeff had read everything he covered, but it never hurt to confirm that.

"We have an escalating pattern of threats and harassment, beginning with the letter of 15 March, demanding all work cease on the Riverwalk project, petty vandalism at the job site itself, increasingly hostile letters, and phone calls to both Mr. Padalecki and Mr. Ackles, their foremen, and most recently, to their private phone numbers. Up until the incident two nights ago, there was no physical harm to anyone."

Jeff was sourly amused at how they were skipping right over the part where it had taken a good 24 hours before anyone had even admitted that the "incident" was related to the threats. From the terse update Jeff had gotten on his way up from McAllen, no one had suspected anything but bad luck and a driver who, by his own admission, tended to push his vehicles well beyond the limits of their suspensions. Blow-outs on a back-country road could turn ugly in a split-second; it wasn't until Jared Padalecki had woken up enough to communicate that someone had shot out the front passenger-side tire on the pick-up truck he'd been driving that people started putting things together. Actually, Jeff corrected himself silently, it wasn't until the boys at the DPS crime lab had corroborated Padalecki's story that things got cranking. What really got Jeff's attention was that it had only taken a couple of hours to get that corroboration. That was a sign of some serious string-pulling and glad-handing at the highest levels.

Jeff tuned back in to Assistant #2, who was far less concise, and followed idly along with the word-by-word dissection of the threatening letters and transcripts of calls that had made it to voicemail. Jeff had listened to the actual recordings on the way over to the hospital--they weren't getting anything from them other than heavy breathing and a voice synthesizer, but it was sometimes helpful to have the specific words spelled out and in front of you. It was very rarely helpful, however, to have them read to you in a voice that wasn't even as dynamic as the synthesized version in the original. Jeff was ready to tune back out again, when there was a cursory knock at the door and Jeff could finally get a look at Jensen Ackles in real life.

Jeff recognized him right off. Even the blurred grainy pictures that had been emailed to him that morning were enough to give him the general idea of the man, but they, as always, failed to convey what Jeff always wanted to know most--the way a person moved, how they shaped and filled the space around them. Given what Jeff knew about Jensen Ackles--highly successful at a young age, well-known on the society pages of both Austin and his hometown of Dallas, reportedly focused and driven, openly gay--he found himself intrigued by the quiet and contained presence he projected. Jeff could see him taking in the entire room, acknowledging those he knew as he moved to the seat at the conference table kept open for him. The chief greeted him with a handshake, nodded his assistant back into his seat and got down to the nitty gritty, which was that everyone in the room, every law enforcement agency involved, felt that the attacks weren't done yet.

Ackles took the news as though it wasn't anything he hadn't already worked out for himself, and then extended the thought in the logical direction. "And you still don't have any leads." It was a statement, not a question. There was a lot of eye-shifting going on between the local guys and the state troopers.

"Nothing concrete," Jeff's lieutenant answered, equally as blunt. "And the consensus is that the best way we're going to smoke this sonofabitch out is--"

"To use me as bait," Ackles said, coolly. He met the lieutenant's eyes dead-on.

"Yes, sir," Martinez said. "Not something I like--not something _any_ of us like--but with the proper precautions, something we think might work."

"The proper precautions?"

"That'd be where I come in," Jeff said, stepping forward from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "Ranger Sergeant Morgan, Mr. Ackles. I'll be your bodyguard."

The pictures Jeff had seen had hinted at the directness of Ackles's gaze, but they failed at sketching out the intensity in the green eyes that met Jeff's own without hesitation. Jeff read stubbornness and intelligence and determination, and wasn't at all surprised by the crisp, rapid-fire questions that followed: _How long?_ and _What about Jared, who's keeping him safe?_ and _The people who work for us?_

Jeff let the higher-ups spin their plans and projections while he kept his focus on the silent communication between them. Padalecki was getting plain-clothes city detectives around the clock, but for the rest of it, they were going to play it dumb, as though they hadn't figured out there was a connection between the threatening calls and letters and the accident. It really didn't make Jeff happy, using a civilian as bait, but nobody was asking him, which was Exhibit A as to why he was a Ranger now, instead of a senior detective.

"So, if I understand this properly, what it comes down to is I go about my business, with the addition of Sergeant Morgan here, and we count on whoever this is getting cocky and tipping his hand," Ackles said.

"We're giving it a week," the chief said. "The escalation pattern says he's going to try something again soon. We'll keep working every angle, of course; if nothing breaks quickly, we'll have to discuss other measures, but for right now, seeing you around in your usual routine... We think it might rattle him some, get him rushed enough that he makes a mistake."

"And I rate a Ranger for all this?"

"Special request of the governor," Jeff's lieutenant said, and Jeff was watching everything close enough to see how the skin around Ackles's eyes tightened, as though he were annoyed, but not surprised.

"Fine." Cool green eyes took Jeff's measure again. "If we're going to do this, let's get started. I've been here since I got the call about Jared; everything else has been on hold."

"I'm good," Jeff said, stepping back to collect his files and get the standard _Call in; stay sharp; you're not expendable_ line from the lieutenant. It rubbed a lot of the newer guys the wrong way, but Jeff had seen way too many good men go down on the most routine of assignments to blow off a reminder that somebody had his back.

He had a feeling he was going to need all the luck he could get with this case.

***

Jensen wasn't sure what he was supposed to think after multiple law-enforcement agencies dropped the bomb that not only was somebody out to get him, but that the best way to catch them was to let them come after him.

Chief Curtis, from the Austin city police followed him right out the door. Jensen knew the guy a little, but he knew enough to know Jared had worked with him before, on a Big Brothers project.

"How's Jared?" Curtis asked, quietly.

"Awake," Jensen answered, rolling his eyes. "Starving. Alternating between charming the staff and raising holy hell about being stuck in bed." He couldn't help smiling a little at the expression on the chief's face. "Yeah, he rolled the truck, broke his leg and cracked four ribs and he's already whining about having to be still."

"Well, they don't call him Sasquatch for nothing," the chief said, smiling. "Still, that's good to hear."

"It is," Jensen agreed. "It'd be better if we could just keep him sedated until he can get around on his own, but I'll take the bitching and moaning over him being in a coma any day."

"Absolutely," the chief agreed, shaking hands once again going back into the conference room, nodding as Morgan, the Ranger came out. He fell into step easily with Jensen.

"They were shooting Jared up with a whole cocktail of painkillers right when I was leaving to come talk to everyone," Jensen said, as they wound their way through the hospital corridors, aiming for the elevators to the parking garage. "He wasn't real happy about it, but I saw the look in the charge nurse's eyes--he's drooling on the pillow by now because she was really damn tired of dealing with him."

Morgan nodded. "You might want to tell your buddy it's never a good idea to wear out the nurses."

"Yeah, you'd think he'd figure that out sooner or later--he's a smart guy--but it probably wouldn't hurt to break it down into words of a syllable or less." The elevator arrived with an obnoxious ding that sounded like freedom to Jensen; Morgan looked as though he agreed. "I'm on four--you?"

"Two," Morgan answered, pushing the button. "And you'll need to be with me."

"Is that really necessary? I thought the point was to pretend nothing's going on?"

"Someone put three rounds from a Remington 7600 into the tires of your partner's truck," Morgan said, evenly. "I'm not going to be doing much good if I'm fifty feet behind you in a different car if it happens again. I'm not saying that they won't try it again, even if you're with me, but at least I've actually driven through something like that."

"Right," Jensen answered, after the briefest of pauses. "Sorry. This is going to take some getting used to."

"It usually does," Morgan said. "Not a problem." _Unless you want to make it one_, his eyes added, and Jensen nodded fractionally.

"I need to get some things from my car," Jensen said, as they got off the elevator. "Files, notes--I pretty much dropped everything when Jared's family called."

"Sure," Morgan said, unlocking the doors on a Bronco. "We'll loop down and you can get whatever you need." He cranked the engine and shifted into reverse.

"This thing is a tank," Jensen said, watching Morgan navigate delicately out into the narrow traffic lane. He wasn't sure there was room for more than one person between it and the parked cars. "And I'm speaking as someone who spends a fair amount of time in an F-150."

"Drives like one, too," Morgan said, with a surprisingly infectious grin. "I'm on the road a lot; at least this thing's big enough I can be in it all day without my bad knee raising holy hell."

"Yeah," Jensen said, sobering quickly. "That's why we have the trucks--enough space for even Jared."

"It's probably good he had all that steel around him," Morgan said, quiet and matter-of-fact. "And that he was wearing a seatbelt, so he wasn't thrown."

"Yeah," Jensen said again, pushing the images out of his mind. Whatever the fuck was going on, Jared was okay, at least for now. He took a deep breath and pointed. "My car's at the end, down that way."

"I can call and have somebody get it out--"

"No," Jensen said, quick enough that Morgan looked over at him. He shook his head and shrugged, a little sheepish. "Sorry--she's my baby. Nobody touches her but me."

Morgan didn't say anything, but when Jensen pointed out where he'd parked the Corvette, he whistled long and low. Jensen couldn't help smiling as he got out of the Bronco and circled around to unlock the passenger-side door. All his stuff was still there, right where he'd thrown it as he'd come out of the condo two mornings ago, aggravated because Jared hadn't checked in the night before. Half the time, Jared forgot about it, so Jensen hadn't really been worried, not until he'd taken the call from Sherri, on the road up from San Antonio.

"Ah, now, that is sweet," Morgan drawled, drawing Jensen's attention back to the present. "I wouldn't let anybody touch her either."

"Thanks," Jensen said. "My brother found her in a junkyard a long time ago; I put her back together myself."

"Nice work if you can get it." Morgan put the parking brake on and got down to look a little more closely. "With the split rear window... A '63, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jensen said. "Totally rebuilt--I'd pop the hood for you, but the light in here isn't worth shit." Jensen transferred his laptop bag and a box of files into the back of the Bronco. "You're safe for now."

"Nah," Morgan said, making sure the back window was locked and climbing back up into the driver's seat. "I'll hold you to it when we're not on the clock here."

"Okay," Jensen said, after a couple of seconds. Most people could care less about the work that went into restoring something like a vintage Corvette, but Morgan's voice had been sincere. Jensen settled himself in the passenger seat and pressed hard at the bridge of his nose, as though that might push back the exhaustion of the last 36 hours. "Deal."

He stayed quiet while Morgan got them out of the garage, speaking only when asked where they were going so the address could get fed into the GPS, but he had a list of questions and there in the car, alone and relatively quiet, seemed to be as good a time as any to start getting answers.

"So," Jensen said, once they were out on the street and moving. "How's this going to work?"

Morgan considered his answer for a few seconds. "Normally, we'd be in a safe house," he started, before glancing across the front seat. The windows on the Bronco were tinted, but it was still mid-afternoon and the glare from the sun had been enough to have them both reaching for sunglasses as soon as they'd gotten out of the parking deck. Jensen couldn't read anything behind the sunglasses, but, tired or not, he was pretty sure his own game face was in play.

"I've worked a good number of security cases, private ones as well as ones with the local and state cops, but as far as I can tell, we're making this one up as we go along," Morgan finally said. Jensen nodded, a little surprised by the candor, but appreciative all the same. Morgan added, "I don't like this set-up at all, but it wasn't my call. We'd be doing things a hell of a lot differently if it was."

"All right, then," Jensen said. "I guess we'll just see how things play out."

***

The offices were tucked away in a quiet street, not far from the Capitol. Jeff parked the Bronco and followed Ackles in the front door. The lobby was flooded with sunlight from the skylights and the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room, facing out into an inner courtyard. The rest of the walls were covered with giant photos of buildings--public spaces as well as private homes--that Jeff figured out quickly enough were the firm's design.

The lobby was empty except for a couple standing in front of the reception desk--or, rather, once Jeff got a good look at body language, a man and a woman, because she was not having any of his shit, for all that he was nearly a foot taller, even counting the good-sized heels on the cowboy boots that went with the jeans and suede jacket. On the job or not, Jeff could admire the legs they showcased. And it was screamingly clear that the guy was, at the very least, a pain in the ass. _Slick_, Jeff thought, all trendy haircut and clothes. They broke off their heated discussion as they heard the door open.

"Jen!" the woman said, spinning on one heel, and starting across the room toward Ackles, the other guy completely dismissed. Jeff kept his face straight, but gave her points for knowing how to cut the legs out from under a guy. With style. "How is he?" she called, before she got even halfway across the lobby.

"He's banged up, but he's gonna be fine, Dani." Ackles caught her in a hard hug.

"Really?" she asked, into his shoulder. "The hospital's just saying he's stable, no details, and there's no way I was going to bother his family."

"Swear to God," Ackles said, setting her back on her feet. "He's whiny and crabby and doing his best impersonation of a two-year-old."

"Okay, good." She gathered herself with a quick shake and touched the corners of her eyes with the tips of her fingers, careful not to smudge her make-up.

"Tears?" Ackles' grin was relaxed and familiar, completely at odds with the cool professionalism in every picture Jeff had seen of him. "Sweetie, don't tell me you're going soft on us--"

"One word, Ackles," she snapped. "One _word_ of this to Jared and I will rebook you into a Motel 6 for every single business trip between now and the end of the year."

Ackles smirked, but held up his hands in the universal _I surrender_ gesture, before he turned to where the other guy still stood, trying to look like he wasn't ready to throw a tantrum over not being the center of attention.

"Michael," Ackles said, and Jeff had to work hard not to double-take at the change in his tone, from open and warm with Dani to cool, verging on downright unfriendly. "It's been a while."

"I heard about Jared," Michael answered, with an expression that--almost--passed for compassionate and concerned. Slick needed to work on the edges of the act, Jeff thought. They didn't quite match up with the rest of the front. "I thought I'd come by and see you needed any help. It must be a madhouse, what with having to cover all the projects you've got working."

Jeff wasn't impressed; neither was Dani, not to judge by the way she had gone back into attack posture.

"We're fine. Dani is a genius at keeping projects on track, no matter what," Ackles said, firmly steering the other man toward the door. "We'll let you know if we need anything."

He held the door open as he finished speaking, and stood, waiting expectantly until Slick nodded and walked outside.

"Very impressive," Slick said. "But remember, Jen... I know you, and I know you like to push people away right when you need them most. My assistant knows to put you through to me immediately, just in case." He smiled a superior sort of smile and nodded in the same way to Dani before he turned and walked off toward the parking lot.

Dani held her tongue until the door was closed. "Nothing personal, Jensen, but God almighty, you have some shitty taste in boyfriends."

"Ex-boyfriends," Ackles said. "But I'm not going to argue with you. What the hell was he doing here?"

"I have no idea, but get this--he wanted to leave you a note, in your office." Dani shuddered, and while most of it was for show, Jeff could see the kernel of truth in there. "That's what we were arguing about when you got here."

"You know, I stopped trying to figure out Michael's motivations a while ago," Ackles said.

"And a good day that was, too," Dani fired back. "Okay, enough about the jerk. Your voicemail is full; Tommy called through to my line, to make sure you got his point that you needed to call if there's anything they can do, and Kane's in my office, working through the schedules with me."

She eyed Jeff speculatively.

"This is Jeff Morgan," Ackles started, and Jeff could tell he was about to explain everything. Jeff caught his eye and shook his head fractionally, and Ackles shifted gears smoothly. "He's working on a--on a project of my mother's, so if we can find him an empty desk, that'd be good."

Jeff pasted a smile on his face--they really should have gone over things but it was a Saturday, and neither of them expected anyone to be in the office--but Dani only nodded and showed him to a relatively large conference room.

Jeff took the opportunity to call in and double-check that nothing had changed on the case--which it hadn't--and jot a few notes to himself. When Ackles came in a few minutes later, Jeff couldn't help smirking. "I work for your _mother_?"

"Trust me, she has her fingers in so damn many different pies, no one's going to question it, even if they do peg you as a Ranger." Ackles shrugged. "Plus, I have a pretty good feeling she's been making calls and pushing things along--that 'personal request of the governor'... If that wasn't her, I'll stand everybody who works for me a round at the next happy hour, so you are working for her, in a sense."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. "Someone got things moving pretty fast, no doubt about it. Everything from the lab getting a look at the tires from the accident to everybody playing nice and cooperating on this."

"And you getting hauled in from McAllen to babysit me." Ackles was really damn good at keeping his voice and face under control, but Jeff could tell this wasn't sitting right with him, and it had nothing to do with the part where he was a moving target.

"Part of the job," Jeff said, keeping his own voice dead serious. "And nothing I haven't done before, both in uniform and privately."

"I'll take your word for it," Ackles said. "But I'm still seeing her fingerprints all over this."

Jeff hesitated, not exactly sure how to say what needed to be said. He'd done a few security cases where the individual in question spent all their time trying to lose him--teenagers, usually, not wanting to understand the seriousness of the situation. In one or two instances, they'd actually been correct, but that didn't mean Jeff still hadn't grimly hung on and outsmarted them. Ackles didn't seem the type to play games, but Jeff had been around too long to not to catch the warning signs of someone pushed past their limit.

"I'm fine," Ackles said, before Jeff could find the right words. "I'm not going to make this any harder than it needs to be, at least not the part of it that's right here and now." Jeff nodded and Ackles grinned suddenly. "Besides, she'll probably have a fit or two when she hears that I've got you working for her. She's very particular about who she hires."

"I'll leave that to you," Jeff said, dryly.

"Listen," Ackles said. "Dani's got things mostly under control here, and a lot of what I'm going to need to do, I can do at home--which is seriously where I'd rather be after being at the hospital for the last however many days--but there's stuff we have to get done, now."

"I'm good," Jeff answered. "All those cops on TV--combined, they don't do the paperwork one of us has to do out here in the real world. My lieutenant would be thrilled to get some from me."

"He married? We can introduce him to Dani; it'd be a match made in heaven." Ackles leaned back out the door, and gestured toward the office across the hall, where Jeff could see Dani at her desk, peering intently at three monitors and chewing on a pen. "I'm thinking about an hour, okay?"

"I'll be here," Jeff said, emptying out his pockets, smoothing out the crumpled index cards and starting to assemble them in some sort of logical order.

***

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, but by the time he and Dani finished working out all the projects that Jared had been covering and who could deal with which ones, it probably a good thing Jensen had somebody to do the driving.

Morgan was quiet, speaking only to verify the address of Jensen's condo, then letting silence fill the car. Jensen appreciated the quiet, but he was halfway asleep as it was, and if he went all the way out, there was no way he was waking up any time soon.

"So, you do this for fun, too?" he said, randomly. He didn't blame Morgan at all for the half-smirk he threw in Jensen's direction. "Sorry. I haven't slept in..." He honestly couldn't remember what day it was. Jared had had the accident Wednesday night, but he got lost trying to figure out how long ago that was. "In a while," he compromised. "And you mentioned private cases...?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it for fun," Morgan answered. "I took a little break from active duty for a year or so. Paid the bills doing security."

"But the Rangers made you an offer you couldn't refuse?" Jensen quipped, or at least attempted to. At this point Jared would usually be rolling his eyes and telling him to leave the actual talking-to-people to him.

"I liked feeling like I was helping people," Morgan answered, slowly. "Private security is... a lot of the time, it's a vanity. Somebody wants to feel important, that kind of thing. I went back to DPS, worked there a couple of years, and made the switch over to the Rangers as soon as they'd accept me."

Jensen nodded, a little surprised by the answer. "Being a Ranger, though," he said. "That's pretty solitary."

"I cover McAllen and generally get called in for cases like this--kidnapping, extortion, that kind of thing. I end up working with the local cops often enough."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, the quiet broken only by the synthesized voice of the GPS. Jensen was right on the edge of sleep when Morgan spoke again.

"Paint." Morgan flicked his eyes over to Jensen. "That's what I do for fun. I paint. Landscapes, mostly."

"Yeah?" Jensen said. You just never could tell about people, he thought. "I fool around with photography," he managed to wake up enough to say. Morgan smiled and the rest of the trip was quiet. Friendly, though.

Jensen pulled himself together enough to get them into his condo and to generally point Morgan toward the guest suite, before he stumbled into his own bedroom and fell onto the bed, too tired to even shower.

It was twilight when he woke, still tired, but starving, so that the shower took second place again, at least until he could make a call for some food. He hadn't really forgotten about Morgan, but it was still unexpected, coming down the hall and into the living area of the condo and seeing him in his shirt sleeves, the leather of a shoulder holster dark against the crisp white of his shirt, papers and files spread out in front of him on the table.

"Wasn't sure if you were out for the rest of the day, too," Morgan said, looking up as Jensen crossed the room.

"Food?" Jensen croaked, digging in the kitchen drawer for the sheaf of take-out menus he kept around and waving them in Morgan's general direction. "I don't care what, as long as it's not hospital food."

"Works for me," Morgan said, taking the menus and opening one randomly. "Tell me what you want and I can order if you want to shower."

"Just tell them it's my usual and add whatever you want," Jensen said, turning right back around and aiming for the bathroom. "And yes, I do have a usual at every place you've got a menu for and they all know what it is. Yes, it's sad, and I'm a pathetic loser who doesn't like to try new things, but that's how it is."

"Dani's assessment?" Morgan guessed. The smile that played around his eyes made him look a decade younger.

"With supporting insults from Jared," Jensen called back over his shoulder. "They tag team me. I let them, because they have to have a little fun in their own sad, pathetic lives, and I'm the kind of guy who wants his friends to be happy."

"I'll be sure to let them know that you haven't overcome your disability," Morgan said.

"You do that," Jensen said, and shut the bathroom door on Morgan's low, quiet laughter.

***

Again, it wasn't as though Jensen actually forgot why Jeff Morgan was in his house, at his table, but when he came back out from the shower and there was take-out from Threadgills spread across the counter and actual sweet tea not from a mix in the stainless steel refrigerator that generally existed only to hold styrofoam boxes of restaurant leftovers, it was as though his brain let him have a little time off, at least until he absently picked up the pile of index cards stacked next to the phone. They were covered with notes made in black ink, the handwriting crisp and decisive, his name and Jared's and Dani's and Kane's, where they were when every call came in, when Jared's accident had happened. It was like touching an ungrounded wire, a quick jolting shock, when he realized they were Morgan's list of suspects.

Jensen looked up, too startled to hide anything, and Morgan looked back at him, his eyes steady. "I think better when I can lay everything out, sort through it however makes the most sense," he said, and Jensen nodded once.

He looked back down at the cards he still held, staring blankly at the top one--_Danneel Harris--admin--access to schedules, cars, phones_\--and said, "This fucking sucks."

***

Jeff watched carefully, but Ackles only shuffled through the cards, reading them quickly, before he tapped them on the edge of the table, reassembling them into a neat pile before he handed them back to Jeff.

"Michael's last name is Weatherly," he said, his voice tired and strained. "We met in grad school. Started out working for the same firm in Dallas. Haven't really spoken in a couple of years." He wandered into the kitchen and refilled his glass of iced tea from the pitcher Jeff had made while he'd been asleep. "And Dani's a full partner. Always has been. I do design; Jared puts them up; Dani makes sure we actually make money at it all. You don't want to be in the blast radius if somebody calls her an admin to her face--" He slammed the refrigerator door hard enough to rattle the frame. "I'm sorry, but you can't possibly be serious. You can't think she had _anything_ to do with this."

"I write everything down," Jeff said, and he could tell that Ackles knew it wasn't an answer to his question. It was the best Jeff could offer, though. "Your name's in there, too. And Jared's."

"Great," Ackles snapped. "Somebody shot at my best friend, put him in the hospital, and he's on the list, too. Awesome. Really."

"Right," Jeff said. "Somebody did do their best to take Jared out of the picture, and it's looking like somebody who knows an awful lot about your firm, this project."

"Which, if we don't bring it in on schedule, is probably enough to put us all under, so why would _any_ of us do that?"

"Motives are the least logical thing of all," Jeff answered. "People do things that are unspeakable, for reasons that I wouldn't even notice."

"Like I said, this whole thing fucking _sucks_." For a second, Ackles looked as though he was about to put his fist through the wall, but he took a deep breath and willed everything back down. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to dump on you."

"It does suck." Jeff slipped the cards in his pocket. "With any luck, we'll catch a break here quickly and this'll all be resolved."

"Yeah, except for the part where there's a chance the resolution's going to suck just as hard--" Ackles broke off and turned toward the front door. Jeff heard it, too--someone fumbling with the lock--but before he could do much more than yank Ackles out of the line of fire, the door slammed open, catching on the chain lock and bouncing back.

"_Ow_\--Shit, Jen, quit trying to kill me with security and let me in."

Ackles sighed and twisted away from where Jeff still had a grip on his arm. "I thought you were out finding your Zen, Misha," he called, arching one eyebrow at Jeff in a perfect, unspoken, _so now what?_ Jeff shrugged, and then followed him across the room to the door.

"This _is_ Zen, or at least as Zen as I can get when Jared's in the hospital and I have to find out third-hand about it."

"It's been a little crazy, and you were off communing with nature," Ackles said, getting the chain lock off and stepping back. Jeff got a quick impression of whipcord lean with dark hair, well-worn hiking boots and pants that matched the backpack leaning outside the door before the other man stepped inside and brushed a possessive kiss across Ackles' mouth.

"You look like crap," he said, running his thumb over the shadows that lay like bruises under Ackles' eyes. "So I'll give you a break for not leaving a message on the voicemail you know damn well I can't not check."

He looked past Ackles and caught sight of Jeff for the first time, sharp blue eyes skimming quickly over the shoulder holster and Jeff's service revolver, and lingering for a second on the badge still clipped to his belt, the silver star of the Rangers unmistakable against the dark leather.

"This is going to be a good story, isn't it?" he said, and went to bring his backpack inside.

***

Before Jensen could even open his mouth, Morgan shrugged and said, "Not really. Old friend of the family."

"Really?" Misha could infuse more into a single word than anyone other than Jensen's mother, but he wasn't usually blatant enough to make Jensen want to wince.

"Really," Morgan answered, with a little edge to his voice. His smile was as polite and bland as Dani's best _why yes, I am telling you to fuck off, thanks for noticing_ expression, and Jensen figured it meant about the same thing, too.

"Really," Jensen said, before things got completely out of hand. "Nothing exciting at all, Misha. Life's still boring around here."

"Jared rolling a truck, notwithstanding," Misha said, and that sick feeling of watching Jared through the glass windows in ICU washed over Jensen again.

"Yeah," Jensen said. "That's enough excitement for the rest of the year." He wandered back into the kitchen, and poked at the remains of dinner.

"He looked--well, he looked like hell," Misha murmured, coming up behind Jensen and putting his hands on Jensen's shoulders. "But even as high as he was, he sounded like himself. Maybe a little less loud, but still all there."

"Once he woke up, it was better," Jensen said. "I doubt the nurses think so, but, yeah, it looks like he's going to be okay."

Misha dug his thumbs in, right where Jensen's shoulders and neck always knotted up, rocking them back and forth a few times before he let go. "I'm going to shower," he said, picking up his backpack and heading toward the master bath. "Save me the rest of your chicken-fried steak and a biscuit or two."

Once the door to the bedroom closed, Jensen took a deep breath and let it trickle out slowly. Morgan crossed his arms and shook his head, muttering under his breath. Jensen caught something that sounded like _amateur hour_, but when Morgan spoke it was only to ask, "Anybody else have a key to this place?"

"Dani and Jay, but they knock first." Jensen started stacking up the to-go boxes, to give himself something to do. "Misha's... Misha."

"So I gathered," Morgan said, dry enough to cure paint. He made a quick pass and grabbed the glasses and plates they'd been eating off of, rinsing them quickly and stacking them in the sink before going back and gathering his notes and laptop. He stuffed everything randomly in a cheap nylon bag. "I can deal with this in the other room."

"Collins," Jensen said, right before Morgan got to the door to the guest suite. "Misha Collins. For your notes."

Morgan nodded and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Jensen alone in the living area. The summer twilight had finally faded to darkness. Outside the long sweep of windows--his condo had been two adjacent units before he'd opened them up and merged them into a wide, shallow space--the city was outlined in lights, and it felt like it had been an eternity since the last time he'd watched the night fall, even though it hadn't even been a week.

Jensen finished cleaning up, putting the few dishes they'd used into the dishwasher and fixing Misha a plate for whenever he emerged. He was restless and tense, and he thought about finding a bottle of wine or hell, going straight for the vodka in the liquor cabinet, but he already felt completely out of control; he didn't need to add to it. In the end, he got more tea and settled on the couch, laptop on the table in front of it. His concentration levels were shot, but he might be able to get through one or two of the things on his list.

Misha took his time in the shower, but Jensen had expected that. When he finally wandered back out, he was wearing a pair of Jensen's sleep pants--which Jensen also expected--and a towel looped around his neck. Even in the low light, Jensen could tell he hadn't shaved. He stopped for a moment behind Jensen, looking over his shoulder at the spreadsheet on the screen and laughing softly.

"I don't even have to touch you to know you're even more knotted up than you were an hour ago." He did touch Jensen, though, a quick brush with the back of his hand above the collar of Jensen's t-shirt, before he moved off to the kitchen. "The last thing you need is numbers; shut that down."

Jensen ignored him. He was right--the last thing Jensen wanted to be dealing with was reviewing budgets, but it had to be done. All he was doing was double-checking Dani's work; it wasn't the end of the world. He made himself ignore Misha's mutterings and got through the file by the time Misha finished eating and sat down next to him. He even managed to get everything saved and his fingers out of the way before Misha closed the laptop on him.

"Too tense," Misha said, one hand sliding up Jensen's arm. "We can fix that."

"I'm fine--" Jensen started, but apparently it was his turn to be ignored.

"You'd have to be quiet," Misha said, as though Jensen hadn't said a word. "That makes it better, though, doesn't it?" He was barely touching Jensen, nothing more than the lightest brush of his fingertips on Jensen's skin, but it didn't matter. It never did--they could be ten feet apart and he could still wind Jensen up as easily as he could if they were naked and pressed up against each other.

"That's what we're going to do," Misha murmured, soft scrape of stubble under Jensen's jaw, along the line of his neck. "In your room, on your bed... spread you out and take my time."

Jensen closed his eyes and fought back a shudder, but Misha knew, like always.

"All you have to do is be quiet," Misha said, his hand warm on Jensen's hip, his thigh. "You can do that, can't you, Jensen?" His hand traced back and forth, slow and teasing. Jensen didn't say anything, but he didn't resist when Misha stood up and tugged him to his feet. "You like doing that."

Jensen didn't agree, but he didn't argue either.

"You like when all you have to do is take it." Misha was relentless when he put his mind to something. "I like giving it to you."

"Misha--"

"I know," Misha said, not taking his hands off Jensen. "I know what you said, and you know it's fine, but just tonight, let me take care of you."

Jensen made himself breathe, easy and steady, and counted to ten. If he said _no_, Misha would back off, and they'd go back to whatever it was that they were now. That was what he should say, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he could say it, but when he looked at Misha, really _looked_, he didn't see anything but concern and love looking back at him. It wasn't the right kind of love, but Misha did care. For the thousandth time, Jensen wished that was enough.

"Yeah," Jensen said, finally, exhaling on a sigh. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," Misha said, his hands fitting to the curve of Jensen's jaw, holding Jensen steady while Misha kissed him, slow, careful kisses that Jensen let himself fall into. "So good, Jen; it'll be so good."

Jensen backed toward his room, pulling Misha with him, stripping his shirt off, and putting everything else out of his mind.

***

Jeff stayed still until the door to the other bedroom closed, and then leaned back against the wall and scrubbed his hand through his hair, hard. Jesus, this case was fucking him up. Accidentally interrupting was one thing--once he opened to door to the guest suite, the entire condo was one long room, and even from the opposite end it was impossible to miss the two men on the couch--but what the hell was he _thinking_, standing there and watching?

He waited another few moments before moving quickly through the living area to where he'd left the overnight bag with his shaving kit under the small table next to the front door. The room was quiet, nothing but faint sounds of the city from the other side of the long wall of windows and the soft tick-tick-tick of the vintage clock that hung on one wall. Jeff wasn't listening for anything else, but he couldn't get those low, hoarse whispers--_you'd have to be quiet; that makes it better; you like doing that_\--out of his head.

Or, if he was perfectly honest with himself--and Jeff really fucking needed to start doing that--it was Jensen's reaction that he couldn't get out of his head. And if he kept up with the honesty, he didn't want it out of his head. Which was… problematic, at the very least, he told himself. Not disastrous, not quite, but not good. And while he was on his soapbox and the rest of his brain might be listening, he needed to stomp down hard on that knee-jerk reaction he had not two seconds after Misha Collins waltzed into the picture, the one that had him all but pissing on the walls to mark the sleek, modern condo as his own territory.

He showered quickly--and did not jerk off thinking about whatever was going on in the other bedroom, at least he had that much self-control, thank fucking Christ--and spent a little more time with his notes. He needed to have more of an idea of where Jensen had to be and when, so he could interact a little more efficiently with the local cops, but there wasn't much else he could do. Personally, his life was on hold, but he'd been doing this long enough that it wasn't a big deal, even if he didn't get home for another week. He'd made the calls on the trip up, so the dogs were fine and his house was set, and his mom wouldn't flip if he didn't return her calls. There wasn't much else to worry about, which was fairly pathetic, given his age, and not how he'd ever seen his life turning out, but it was what it was.

It wasn't even midnight, but it had been a long fucking day, and he reminded himself that nobody was going to profit if he wasn't on his best game the next day. He still didn't think he was going to get much sleep, but somebody was looking out for him--he was out cold two minutes after he put his head down and didn't wake until the alarm on his phone went off right before dawn.

The windows all faced north, so the sky was only beginning to lighten, but he smelled coffee, so he pulled on a pair of sweats and--cautiously--opened the door. Jensen was leaning against the counter, an oversized mug clutched in one hand. He was already dressed for the day in khakis and a dusty green button-down, but his feet were bare and he didn't look particularly awake.

He looked up as Jeff closed the door, waving in the general direction of a gleaming, expensive-looking coffee maker, mumbling what Jeff took to be an invitation to serve himself. Jeff had seen cars with less chrome than what was on display on the counter, but the coffee that came out of it was prime stuff, so he bit back the snark and filled the mug to the top.

Jensen shoved cream and sugar at him, but Jeff shook his head. "Black's fine."

"Cliché, much?" Jensen muttered. "I'd have thought the ink would have given you a pass on the manly coffee shit." He gestured to where the sleeve of Jeff's t-shirt had ridden up, showing off the bottom half of the cross tattooed on his arm.

"Peer pressure is an ugly thing," Jeff deadpanned. "Even with the ink, none of the other Rangers will play with me if I pussy out and drink my coffee light."

Jensen looked at him, quick and sharp before he snorted. "I didn't think you guys were allowed to have a sense of humor."

"We hide it from the civilians," Jeff answered. "Union rules. Don't rat me out."

"Christ, and here I thought I was going to have a quiet morning with Misha back out on his vision quest."

"Already?" Jeff thought he got enough disinterest into his tone to not raise any hackles, but Jensen wasn't looking at him, so he couldn't be sure.

"He decided he'd rather return to nature rather than be around me covering a couple of construction sites." Jensen rolled his eyes. "He's probably right."

"So it's my lucky week, that's what you're telling me?"

"You have no idea," Jensen said. "Even better, there's a brunch today, at the children's hospital. Fundraiser. We're doing an atrium for them, breaking ground next month, and with Jared laid up, I kinda have to show."

"Brunch?" Jeff asked. "_Brunch?_

"Quiche and all. How's that fit with the union rules?" Jensen had a damned impressive innocent face. "I suppose we could call it lunch for all official purposes."

"That'd probably work better." Jeff had worked a hell of a lot of cases, but he didn't think he'd ever stood around and joked with a civilian in the middle of one.

"I'll make a note," Jensen said, letting a little smirk curve his mouth before he drained his coffee. "I was kinda hoping to go by the hospital and check on Jared before that, though."

"Whatever your schedule is," Jeff said, refilling both their coffees. "That's the point of me being your uninvited house guest."

"All right," Jensen said. "If we get there early enough, he probably won't have had time to get twitchy about not being able to bounce off the walls like usual, which, trust me, can only be a good thing--"

His cell phone rang, interrupting him mid-sentence, and Jeff pretended not to notice that it took him a second to steel himself to look at the display. Jeff didn't blame him; picking up the phone to people threatening you got old, fast. Once Jensen gave him the okay that it was Dani, Jeff took the chance to duck back into the bedroom and start making a few calls of his own. His liaison in the Austin PD didn't have much to add to the previous day's report, and the news from state crime lab was that they were making the report official, which meant that if they ever caught the shooter, they'd probably lead with attempted murder charges. He didn't mention that to Jensen; if Jensen asked, Jeff would tell him, but _ murder_ was one of those words best left for the DA's office to bring up.

Jensen had added shoes by the time Jeff got dressed and back out into the living area. His eyes flickered over Jeff's shoulder holster; Jeff felt the irrational need to tell him he hadn't had to draw his gun in over a year, and hadn't fired it in almost three times as long, not unless you counted time at the range. He didn't though, just shrugged into his jacket and waited while Jensen made sure he had everything he needed.

The trip back to the hospital was fast and easy; it was still too early on a Sunday morning for there to be much in the way of traffic, or have trouble finding parking when they got there. The detective outside Padalecki's room--who, Jesus, looked about _twelve_\--nodded Jensen inside without any fuss as soon as Jeff flashed his badge; everything quiet and calm enough that Jeff was thinking about maybe finding another hit of coffee when the shouting started inside the room.

Jeff looked at the young detective, who looked back at Jeff, clearly out of his depth. "Some cases," Jeff said, as the door to the room was jerked open from the inside. "They never end up going by the book."

"Oh, for God's sake," Jensen snapped. "Morgan, come in here so my idiot partner can see what a suspicious, untrusting son of a bitch you are and get off his high horse about this whole thing."

The detective gaped. Jeff shrugged, and patted the kid on the shoulder. "This is definitely that kind of a case."

***

Jensen got that Jared had a protective streak a mile wide, and that being stuck in a bed wasn't helping with anything, but there were days when he could cheerfully strangle the guy, and getting hit with _What the hell do you think you're doing?_ two seconds after he walked in the door was a little bit much.

"Really glad we didn't stop for coffee on the way over," he muttered as Morgan passed him. "He's wired enough as it is."

"Oh, for fuck's--you know what?" Jared demanded. "Anybody who agrees to such a monumentally _stupid_ idea like using himself as bait does not get to comment on whether I do or do not need to calm down."

Jensen couldn't help rolling his eyes--which tended to _really_ piss Jared off--and crossed his arms. "Jared--look, this is my new bestest buddy, Sergeant Morgan, of the Texas Rangers, okay? With me 24/7. Suspects _everybody_, including you, me, and Dani."

"Yeah?" Jared glared at Jensen, then over at Morgan, who nodded. "Well. Good." Jared laid his head back against the pillow and took a deep breath or two. "I still don't like it."

"I don't either," Morgan said, low and serious. _Implacable_, Jensen thought. "But I'm working with it."

"Jared," Jensen said. "We can't--I can't go and hide away here, for however long it's going to take them to figure this out. The company--Jay, come on, we can't take the hit of both of us being out of commission."

"It's not worth it," Jared said, stubborn to the end. Morgan stood off to the side watching with that particular intensity that Jensen knew meant he was cataloging and analyzing every word.

"Really?" Jensen asked. "It's not worth everything it took to get here? Every crap job you worked to get through school, all the strip malls out there with my name on the blueprints? Every sleaze who told Dani she'd be perfect for the job as long as she loosened up and wore her skirts a little shorter?"

"Speaking of Dani," Jared said, conversationally, which was never a good sign, Jensen knew. "She know about this?"

Jensen sighed. "Jare--"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jared crossed his arms and glared again. "It's not going to make a damn bit of difference to you whether we have a company after this is over, because she is going to fucking rip your head off when she finds out."

"You think I like this?" Jensen snapped. "Lying to everybody I know but you? Because if you think I'm having a good time here, we have a hell of a lot more serious issues than how big of a fit Dani's gonna throw when this comes out."

"No," Jared sighed. "I know you don't, but…" He gestured down at the cast on his leg. "I just--you know I can't deal with being down like this."

"I know." Jensen sat on the edge of the bed, moving as carefully as he could. "You have to chill, man. Focus on getting better. Kane's gonna come give us a hand on the ramp up for the hospital atrium--"

"But you're covering Riverwalk." Jared sounded resigned. "Even after this."

"C'mon, Jay," Jensen said, shrugging helplessly. "I can't let anybody else go into that, not after everything that's gone down. And we're not letting it go, okay? We're not letting this son of a bitch shut us down, no matter how much it costs."

Jared looked at him for a long couple of seconds, but finally shook his head, and if he wasn't smiling, he was at least not yelling. "Kane, huh? Don't be letting him near my truck, you hear? I mean, here I was, thinking the only bright spot of all this is that it was your crappy old truck that got totaled, and now I have to worry about him getting his paws all over my GPS…"

"You think Dani's going to let him drive hers?" Jensen said, pretending a nonchalance he knew Jared could see right through. Jared wouldn't call him on it, though.

"Well, since she's the one who's always telling me that it's not really my truck, that it belongs to the corporation and I have to share, I'm thinking the same thing applies to the one _she_ likes."

"It's usually easier to let the two of them fight over the newer trucks," Jensen said, to Morgan. "So the old one is mine, and Jared drives the tricked-out one, and Dani takes the extended cab, because she usually ends up taking clients out to job sites."

Morgan nodded, but he had that look, the one that Jensen already knew meant he was filing things away. He was surprised Morgan hadn't pulled out a damned index card and a pencil.

"But you weren't driving that one Wednesday?" Morgan asked.

"Nah, it needed an oil change and I didn't have time to wait around for it." Jared shrugged. "I grabbed the old one; I mean, they're all fine, I just like the bigger one. Little more space, you know? We joke about it, but really, we all drive whatever's around when we need to go out to a site. Jen spends more time in the office, so we stick him with whatever's left."

Morgan nodded again, but didn't say anything, letting Jensen fill Jared in on how they were going to get everything done in a little more detail. Jared had a couple of suggestions, but Jensen could tell it was stressing him out, to the point that he was almost rude to the tech who came in to check his blood pressure and pulse.

"Jay," Jensen said, after she was gone. "I know this is weird, but..."

"Yeah," Jared said. "I know. I'm trying; it's just..."

"Weird," Jensen repeated, in unison with him, and grinned. Jared smiled back, at something considerably less than his usual mega-watt smile, and Jensen cast about for something to talk about that wasn't going to give Jared any more ammunition to beat himself up with. "Speaking of weird," he said. "Morgan and I walked in on Weatherly, of all people, trying to convince Dani to let him help out."

It was a good distraction; Jared sat up and stared. "Michael Weatherly, Mr. I-don't-understand-how-you-can-waste-your-time-with-such-inferior-beings, wanted to _help_?"

"That's what he said." Jensen pointed at Morgan, who nodded. "In front of witnesses and all."

"Dude." Jared shook his head. "That's not weird; that's Bizarro World."

"Tell me about it," Jensen said.

"You sure he wasn't there to get his hands on next year's proposals, so he'd know how much to underbid us by?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Jensen answered. "Whatever--Dani wasn't letting him past the lobby even before we showed up."

"Man, that's still freaky."

Jensen started to answer, but Jared laid his head back against the bed and closed his eyes, looking suddenly worn out, so he stood up instead, nodding toward the door. Morgan nodded back, and stepped outside.

"We're gonna take off, Jay," Jensen said. "You look wiped."

"Hate the drugs," Jared breathed. "Can't think for more than ten minutes at a time."

"You just woke up yesterday," Jensen said, easing toward the door. "Give it a little time."

Jared nodded, not opening his eyes. "Misha came by," he said, his voice about as neutral as it ever got, which meant he must really have been feeling the pull of the drugs.

"Yeah," Jensen sighed. "He came by my place afterward."

"Jen," Jared said, opening his eyes but not moving his head. "You know I really like Misha. He's a great guy--except..."

"Yeah," Jensen said. "Except for the part where he's married, and I'm apparently not built for poly like they are, and no, that doesn't make them bad people, or me a prude, it just means I'm shit out of luck here. Did I miss anything?"

"Listen, I know it's your life, and you're a grown man, and I'm the last person to be giving advice, but I'm stuck in here," Jared said. "Don't make me call in the big guns. You know I'll figure out how to make that PG enough to sic Mac on you."

"I'm good, Jay." Jensen kept everything as low-key as he could, even without the threat of little sisters who thought they knew everything on the table, because Jared didn't need to be taking any attention away from getting better. "Misha came by to make sure I was okay. One night, and he's back out doing his thing, and you need to rest."

Jared still had that stubborn glint in his eyes, so Jensen added, "Don't make _me_ call in the big guns, because I've seen your charge nurse in action."

"Yeah, go on, threaten the guy in the cast." Jared's smile was dimmed, but still impossible to resist. "Real hero, aren't you?"

"I'll come back by later," Jensen said, and closed the door quietly on Jared's nod.

Morgan looked like he was giving the cop on duty outside Jared's room a pep talk, but he broke away as soon as he saw Jensen and they fell into step together.

"So," Jensen said. "That's Jared."

"Pretty young," Morgan said, as they reached the elevators.

"Yeah," Jensen sighed. "A lot of people thought I was nuts, going in with him instead of somebody with more experience, but we… clicked. I don't know--it's, we work hard, harder than I ever expected, but…"

"It works," Morgan said, like he knew exactly what Jensen was saying, all the layers and meanings.

"Yeah," Jensen said. There was a soft ding as the elevator stopped on their floor and the doors opened. "It does."

Even on a Sunday morning, there were people in the elevator, men and women in scrubs, a little boy holding on tight to a balloon with one hand and his grandmother's hand with the other, his t-shirt proclaiming _I'm the Big Brother_, so Jensen waited until they were back down in the parking garage and walking to Morgan's Bronco, just the two of them, before he finished.

"What I said back there, in Jared's room," he said, and Morgan turned to face him. "I'm not letting some random asshole ruin that. It's one thing if we go under because of something we did--I get too ambitious or Jay doesn't run the sites well enough or Dani underbids a project and we can't turn a profit--that happens all the time, it's a killer business. But this isn't that. It isn't even dealing with the crooked shit that's always out there. This is--this is--"

"Wrong," Morgan said, in little more than a growl. "It's some little shit who can't show his face and thinks he's getting away with whatever he wants, and it's wrong."

"Yeah," Jensen said, swallowing hard. "It is. Thanks. I know this is your job and all, but thank you for getting that--"

The Bronco wasn't far from the elevators, only around the bend in the parking garage, and Jensen hadn't exactly been paying attention as they walked, too intent on everything he'd been keeping bottled up inside, so the pickup that came flying down the ramp from the upper level took him by surprise. It was taking the corner a little wide, but Jensen was a step too far away from the parked cars, so it took him a split second to realize that even though he'd automatically stepped back, out of the traffic lane, the truck wasn't doing the same, but was actually following him.

Jensen stumbled sideways, slamming hard up against the back of a van, and there was no place left to go. His momentum was forward and sideways; he knew he wasn't going to make it, knew that the truck was going to pin him against the van, even before his feet slipped out from under him as he tried to throw himself backward, away from the truck. He had a wild thought that maybe, if he hit the ground perfectly right, he might be able to roll part of the way under the van, but then he was being jerked backward, far enough that when the truck scraped along the edge of the van, it missed Jensen by an inch.

Jensen fell awkwardly, tangled up in somebody else, hitting the concrete hard enough to knock the rest of his breath out of his body. The truck tore off with a final screech of tires, and Jensen came back into his body with a jolt, aware that he was sprawled on the ground, half on somebody else, so that there was a knee in his back. Slowly, like he was moving through water, he managed to drag himself up into a sitting position.

"Jensen," a voice--Jeff, Jensen thought, placing it finally, Jeff Morgan--was saying. "_Jensen_."

"Yeah," Jensen said. "I'm okay." He took a breath, and then another, and yeah, he was okay, nothing broken, nothing worse than maybe a couple of bruises. He repeated himself, to be sure. "I'm okay."

He turned around enough to make eye contact with Jeff, nodding slightly, and then put his head down between his knees. Jeff laid his hand on the back of Jensen's neck, warm and steady. Jensen stayed where he was, breathing as evenly as he could, and listened to Jeff call everything in.

He sounded pissed, Jensen thought, as he snapped out a quick summary of where they were and what had happened in a coldly furious voice. Jensen wasn't particularly surprised to hear that he'd kept his head enough to have gotten a partial license plate number on the truck. Jensen didn't have anything to add, at least until he heard Jeff say that they'd be heading to the ER, just to be on the safe side.

"No," Jensen said, lifting his head. "I told you, I'm okay."

"You need to get checked out--"

"There's no time," Jensen said. "I need to be at this fundraiser; Dani could only stay for a little while, and they're expecting us to be a presence." He stood up, and his legs didn't do anything stupid like go out from under him or anything, so he squared his shoulders and dusted himself off. "I am not letting this son of a bitch win. Not even on something like this."

He met Jeff's eyes and said it again, "I'm _not_ letting him win."

***

Jeff gave it his best glare, but Jensen met him straight-up, not giving an inch, and Jeff knew he wasn't going to get any support from official channels, not with them being the ones who thought up this idiotic scenario in the first place.

"Fine," Jeff bit out. "We'll do it your way, but the first _hint_ of anything not right and we'll be out of there so fast you won't know what fucking hit you."

"Great," Jensen muttered. "It'll be a theme."

Jeff pretended like he hadn't heard, going back to finish off the call to his Austin PD contact while they drove back to the condo, and then starting the whole thing over again with his lieutenant while Jensen changed. Jeff's suit wasn't in great shape, but it would have to do. Jensen put the address they needed to be at straight into the GPS without saying a word, and Jeff followed the directions equally quietly.

"Thank you," Jensen said, after a couple of miles of nothing but the automated voice of the GPS to break the silence. "I didn't think I--that was close."

"You're welcome," Jeff answered, shoving down the replay of that endless second before he could get a grip in the back of Jensen's shirt. "And yeah, too fucking close. Are you sure--"

"I'm fine," Jensen said. "I mean, I've probably got a dent in my back that matches up to your knee, and I slammed my elbow pretty good, but that's it."

"Yeah, you say that now," Jeff said. Jensen shot him an annoyed look; Jeff didn't bother to hide his grin. "Once that adrenaline wears off, you'll be lucky if you even remember your back and elbow." Underneath it all, though, Jeff could admit, at least to himself, that he goddamned well liked the idea of whoever was doing this getting no satisfaction from forcing Jensen out of his life.

"Before we get to this shindig," Jeff said. "Something Jared said--it started me thinking, and the, uh, incident in the parking garage hasn't changed anything, but, how often _do_ you drive the truck Jared rolled?"

"Pretty often," Jensen said, quietly. "I hardly ever take any of the others."

"Would you have had reason to have been out on that construction site?"

"I didn't, but it wouldn't be all that unusual for me to go out there."

"So, what I'm left with is that somebody took out Jared in the middle of the night, in a vehicle that you're almost always seen driving. Add that to them having to know who they were aiming at today, and I don't like the way the chips are falling."

"I'm not real wild about it either," Jensen said. "Jared got a good number of calls, though. Some to his private number, same as me."

"Yeah," Jeff said. "I'm not saying I'm on the right track, I'm just saying it's something that's sticking out when I look at everything."

"And you don't like things that stick out," Jensen said.

"I do not," Jeff agreed. "Hate them all--anomalies. Breaks in a pattern. Weird shit. Like your buddy Weatherly."

"Michael and I were a lot of things, but buddies isn't even close." Jensen laid his head back against the seat. Jeff wondered if the adrenaline was fading already. "You don't think he has anything to do with any of this?"

"I think whoever this is knows you." Jeff said it straight-up and matter-of-fact. "They know your company vehicles. They knew where you were this morning."

"Yeah," Jensen said. "I hadn't missed that part either."

Jeff made the final turn in the directions, into what turned out to be the front entrance to a country club and politely declined the valet parking. "Sorry," he said, as the kid parking cars waved him off to some lower parking area. "Too much ordinance in the back to be letting anyone in this thing."

Jensen snorted, and shook his head. "Just thinking how I used to hate riding around with my cousins, all pick-up trucks and gun racks," he said when Jeff cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Sometimes the universe has a really odd sense of humor," Jeff answered.

"I guess," Jensen said, eyeing the hill back up to the front door with something less than enthusiasm, but when Jeff was about to offer a quick trip to the ER again, Jensen gave him that look that said not to bother. "Everything's gone stiff anyway; at least this gives me a couple hundred feet to loosen up before I have to put on my company manners."

Jeff nodded and hauled himself out of the Bronco, his own muscles complaining from the inactivity on the drive over as well. He tried to settle on some kind of a neutral expression that would let him get away with spending the next few hours in polite society.

"Did I mention there's always lots of alcohol at these things?" Jensen said, as though he could read Jeff's mind.

"Good to know," Jeff said. "Except for that part where they frown on that kind of thing. Rangers drinking on duty."

"Guess you'll have to console yourself with the quiche then," Jensen answered, with an echo of what might, on a less crazy day, have been an evil smirk. "They don't fine you guys for that kind of thing, do they?"

"Smart ass," Jeff said, but under his breath, because they were back up to the front door and there was already a woman in a silk suit and pearls calling out to Jensen. Jeff took that as a cue and did his best to stay out of the picture. It turned out to be fairly easy--there was an actual bar where Jeff could stay, not just a table set up to serve the alcohol--but mostly, though, he could fade out because Jensen was the golden-boy star of the show. Jeff sat with a never-ending club soda and a twist and watched Jensen charm everyone who approached him.

It was a hell of an act, but Jeff could still tell it was a show, and an exhausting one at that. He wasn't surprised when Jensen showed up two hours into the whole deal and dropped into the seat next to him, just caught the bartender's eye.

"Whatever he's drinking," Jensen said, motioning toward Jeff. "It's not alcoholic, right? Because the way I feel right now, one drink might put me under."

"Nah, you're good." Jeff felt around in his pockets and pulled out a couple of single-dose packs of ibuprofen. "Here, see if that helps," he said, and tried not to wince when Jensen swallowed them dry.

"Thanks," Jensen mumbled, draining the glass the bartender put in front of him in a single long swallow. "There's still another hour on the silent auction before we can get out of here." He nodded to the bartender for a refill, and one for Jeff, too.

"Who are you, by the way," Jensen said, quietly. "So I don't contradict the story."

"Nobody's asked," Jeff said. "And I'm not really trying to make conversation. The bartender saw me walk in with you, and I doubt anybody else has noticed."

Jensen looked at him, sharp and questioning. "That doesn't bother yo--"

"Jensen!" A woman's voice cut through the noise of the crowd in the other room.

"Oh, _shit_," Jensen breathed, even as he was standing up and pasting a smile on his face.

Jeff stood, too, and turned to see yet another perfectly-groomed woman in a suit and pearls bearing down on them, which was about as routine as it got for this particular event, at least until Jensen leaned down so she could kiss him on the cheek and said, "Hi, Mom. I didn't know you were driving down for this."

"Well, of course, I was driving down, darling." She reached up and took care of an imaginary smear of lipstick on his cheek. "You know I'm on the board."

"Of course," Jensen echoed, in a perfect deadpan, before he took a deep breath and turned to Jeff. "Mom, this is Jeff Morgan. Jeff, my mother, Donna Ackles."

"Mr. Morgan," she said, cool and collected, holding out her hand with exquisite poise and dismissing him completely in the same motion. Jeff had to admire the style.

"Ma'am," Jeff answered, taking her hand and keeping a straight face, as though he hadn't noticed he'd just been bitchslapped into next week. Jensen looked resigned, like he knew there was no point in saying anything, which bothered Jeff a whole lot more. He let a little of the stone-face slip into a smirk, one that slid into more of a genuine smile when he saw Jensen's shoulders relax a fraction.

He wrenched his attention back to the conversation, but it was proceeding quite nicely without him, Jensen's mother almost a completely different woman as she asked about Jared and whether he would be up to receiving visitors. She edged back into the glacial tone when Jensen asked if she'd been making calls--_Of course I've been making calls, Jensen; don't pretend naïvete. I know that you understand perfectly well how to make things happen most effectively_.

Despite the wild swings in temperature, to Jeff's eye, it looked as though Jensen was holding his own, but then the playing field reversed when she reached into her purse and took out a small package, wrapped in tasteful, pastel paper, holding it out until Jensen took it, handling it as though it were a bomb as he leaned down to let her kiss him good-bye.

Jeff shouldn't have been surprised to be included in a polite, if cool, farewell--good manners would, of course, dictate that--but the reaction to the incident in the parking garage was settling in and he was a little slow on the uptake. Jensen stood next to him, turning the little package over and over in his hands, his face blank.

"I, ah, wasn't paying real close attention there--" Jeff started, and Jensen snorted.

"Best move you've made all day, and that includes pulling me out from under that damn truck."

Jeff hesitated, but finished his thought, as quietly as he could. "What is that?" he asked.

"This?" Jensen held out the box. "This is for an old friend, one who happens to be the only woman I ever took home to meet the family, even though we both knew it was because I was too freaking scared to tell them the truth." He stopped and took a long, slow breath. "She's married now, just had her second baby, and this would be a subtle reminder of all the things my 'lifestyle' is keeping me from."

Jeff stayed quiet, and Jensen finally sighed and met his eyes.

"Or, it's just that my mother is a stickler for the social niceties and she wanted to send a little something for the baby. She knows we keep in touch." Jensen said it like he couldn't really bring himself to believe it, but even putting the possibility out there was some sort of progress.

"Maybe a little of both," Jeff offered, thinking about the extremes in the conversation.

"Yeah," Jensen said. "Maybe."

***

Luckily, Jensen could deal with the rest of the afternoon on autopilot. He could feel Jeff's eyes on him, as though the other man was gauging exactly how long it was going to take before he totally lost it, but Jensen had his eye on the prize--getting the hell out without anyone the wiser to the day's dramas--and whatever other issues he had, he could focus when he needed to.

The only time he even had to engage his brain was running into Tom and Jamie on the way out. Everyone had heard about Jared's accident and wanted to know how he was doing, but most of the conversations Jensen had had were little more than fishing expeditions, everyone wanting the gossip scoop. Tommy, on the other hand, knew them both, had worked with Jared back in the day, and deserved more than the standard line Jensen had been feeding people. In some ways, it sucked worse, having to skim around the truth with people who actually cared about Jared, but at least Jensen knew they were asking _because_ they cared.

"We won't keep you," Tom said, once Jensen had assured him that Jared, while banged up and likely to be riding the bench for a while, was going to be fine. "I meant what I said, though--both on your voicemail and to Dani. You need anything, call."

"Of course," Jensen said. He was acutely aware of Jeff in the background, and of the curious looks Jamie was giving the two of them, but Tom had her by the elbow and got her away before she could actually say the _Jensen, you've been holding out on us--how long have you been seeing each other?_ Jensen could see in her eyes. The last thing he felt like doing was adding to the lies he was already throwing out there.

Of course, when he looked at Jeff on their way back to the Bronco, it was the cop looking back at him--and at Tom and Jamie, assessing them and the conversation--and it slammed home the point, yet again, of how fucked up this whole situation was.

"That doesn't bother you?" Jensen sounded like a petulant child even to his own ears, but somewhere in this entire clusterfuck, he'd lost the ability to care. "Tossing out one lie after another? That was Tom and Jamie Welling, by the way. Tom's in the business, too; Jamie…I don't exactly know what Jamie does. You'll have to check that one out yourself."

Jeff took his time answering, unlocking the Bronco and swinging up into the driver's seat before he said, "That's not the question you really want to ask, but, yeah. It bugs the shit out of me, not being truthful." He waited until they were back out on the road to add, "It bugs me a hell of a lot more to see a kid like Jared getting cut out of his truck and airlifted into surgery because somebody thought the rules didn't apply to them."

Jensen could practically feel the fury in his voice, like how he'd sounded earlier, in the hospital parking garage, with Jensen on the ground next to him, but it didn't do anything to settle the knots twisting Jensen up. If anything, it twisted them tighter, like a lecture that left Jensen feeling like a silly, naïve kid, whining about how unfair life was.

Jeff didn't bother asking, just pulled into the first McDonald's he saw, and Jensen unclenched his jaw long enough to put an order in for a combo meal he knew was going straight into the trash as soon as he got home. Jeff followed him silently, still radiating that icy control. Jensen itched to shatter it.

Instead, he swallowed a couple more ibuprofen and booted up his workstation. If he had to spend his weekdays out on job sites, he was going to have to figure out some way to finish off the stuff he had in process, too. Sitting down and thinking through specs for a project usually was one of his failsafes, the reason he did what he did. Dani would shove him off to do exactly that when he was making her crazy at the office, but whatever equanimity he found evaporated as soon as his cell rang, and the caller ID showed up as blocked.

"Answer it on speaker," Jeff said, his voice smooth and calm, nothing like the intensity in his eyes. Jensen took a deep breath and nodded, thumbing the phone on--and then shook his head when Mackenzie's voice came blasting out at him.

"I knew I should have come down with Mom, but I figured you'd be your usual nose-to-the-grindstone genius self and I wouldn't get to see enough of you to balance out six hours in a car."

"My little sister," he murmured to Jeff, reaching for the phone. Jeff smiled a little and started to leave the room, but not before Mac said, "She said you were there for a while, though, and that you were there with a guy, an older guy, and you are totally holding out on me, aren't you?"

"Mac--"

"Look, I know it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to tell them, and I get why you don't live here now, but I thought you knew I was okay with you being ga--"

"Mac!" Jensen couldn't look up, but there was no way Jeff hadn't heard everything. "It's not what you're thinking, okay? I love you, but I'll call you back later."

Jensen hung up before she could say anything else, and sent his calls straight to voicemail. Jeff had only made it as far as the kitchen; he stopped half-turned back toward him when Jensen dropped the phone on the table.

"She sounds…"

"Like the cheerleader she is," Jensen sighed.

"I was going to say like she cares," Jeff said. "But I'll go on record as saying I'm not surprised she's a cheerleader."

The silence that fell was more like it had been earlier.

"That doesn't bother you?" Jensen probably should keep his mouth shut, because at least the tension had broken, but the words were out before he could apply what was left of his common sense. "She just assumed… She's not the only one"

Jeff did him the favor of not pretending like he didn't understand. "No more than it would if it was Dani I was shadowing."

Jensen looked at him for a long time, Jeff looking back strong and direct, no bullshit, no pretense. It was Jensen who dropped his eyes first. He fumbled his phone back into his pocket and stood up.

"More work?" Jeff sounded vaguely disapproving, as though Jared had somehow rubbed off on him in the short time they'd met.

"I should," Jensen answered. "But that thing you said earlier, about how I only thought I was okay…? I mean, I'm fine," he said quickly, because he could see Jeff gathering for another _ER, NOW_ pronouncement. "But… Judging from all the places that hurt, I think I must have bounced a couple of times when you grabbed me."

"I'd say I'd be more careful next time," Jeff said. "But I'm working on there not being a next time."

"You're not going to get an argument on that from me." Jensen thought he'd boxed things up pretty neatly in his mind--he'd managed to get through the entire day without drinking himself into oblivion, after all--but he could feel the walls he'd built starting to waver. "I'm going to shower," he said, as much to set a plan for himself as to communicate with Jeff. "Probably just crash after that."

"Good." Jeff nodded. "You'd be surprised how much sleep helps."

"I'm prepared to be amazed," Jensen said, shutting everything down and tidying his desk. Jeff looked settled in at the table in the dining area, papers strewn everywhere and laptop open. Jensen tried not to think about how right that felt.

***

Jeff more or less gave up on getting anything that resembled quality sleep when his cell rang at midnight with a call from the analysts to tell him they were emailing a list of names, people who had vehicles registered that matched on the partial license plate number Jeff had called in. If he was smart, he told himself, he'd leave combing through the list of names and makes and models for somebody with fresh eyes and a non-fogged brain, but there was no way he was going to be sleeping, not knowing that the list was sitting there waiting for him.

He had no idea what the deal was with the coffee maker in Jensen's kitchen, but he found a stash of Red Bull in the refrigerator and that fit his mood more than coffee did anyway. He'd managed to get three numbers and the general body type and color; the list they emailed him had already been broken out by make and model, with everything not a truck or on the lighter end of the color spectrum held in reserve. Anything registered in the general area was flagged highest, but, like the email said, that was just so they'd have someplace to start.

Jeff traded in his dress shirt and slacks for track pants and a t-shirt and dug in.

He was still there two hours later when the door to the master suite opened and Jensen stumbled out, wearing only sleep pants and a thin t-shirt. He jerked to a stop when he realized Jeff was there, before making it the rest of the way into the kitchen and filling a glass with water.

"Rough night," Jeff said, not exactly a question.

"I see that damn truck every time I close my eyes," Jensen admitted, drinking the water quickly and refilling it. "What are you doing?"

"Presents from the analysts." Jeff turned his laptop to show him the list of names and makes and models, and Jensen nodded slowly.

"They're still working on it, focusing on the ones registered around here," Jeff said. "Do you recognize anyone?"

Jensen stared at the screen, hard enough that Jeff figured everything had to be blurring together.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know--should I?"

Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not, but it's not something we can afford not to look at."

Jensen nodded again, not moving away from where he stood next to Jeff, close enough that Jeff could feel the warmth of his skin.

"At two in the morning?"

"They're good--the support staff we have," Jeff said. "They're smart and dedicated--"

"Yeah, I guess, since this came in in the middle of a Sunday night," Jensen said.

"But, it's just another case to them," Jeff said. He pushed back from the table, a little appalled that he'd just said what he'd said, and needing to get a little space, but Jensen moved with him, and Jeff couldn't not look at him, no matter how much he was giving away.

"Jeff," Jensen breathed, his hand coming up to wrap around Jeff's arm. Jeff went as still as he could, hardly able to breathe with everything he was seeing in Jensen's eyes. Jensen dropped his eyes, finally, broke the connection, but Jeff still couldn't make himself move, because Jensen had shifted his grip on Jeff's arm so his thumb could follow along the edge of Jeff's cross, pushing the sleeve of his t-shirt up to see more, let his finger trace higher.

His touch was feather-light and Jeff felt it with every nerve in his body, every brush of Jensen's skin on his own. Jensen kept his head down, watching his hands move, and Jeff couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted something so badly.

"Jen." Jeff wanted to close his eyes, so he wouldn't have to see when he tugged his arm free, but the least he could do was face up to reality. Jensen let him go, and Jeff made himself take a step back, too. Jensen stayed where he was, standing easy and relaxed and still, very still, as though any movement might send Jeff running. It wasn't, Jeff thought, a particularly wild assumption. "This is--I can't--"

"I'm guessing they frown on this sort of thing, too," Jensen said, and something--resignation, inevitability--in his voice snapped Jeff right out of how he'd been wrapped up in himself. "Way more than a martini or two on duty, right?"

"They frown on it no matter who's involved," Jeff said, half-amazed at how calm he sounded, half-disappointed in it. "And there's good reason for it. The ethics of me letting something like this happen right now are… It wouldn't be right."

"Yeah," Jensen said, after an endless few seconds. He couldn't have been more clear that he didn't believe Jeff if he'd been carrying a flashing neon sign, but maybe that was for the best, Jeff thought, because he wasn't sure if he could stick to his guns if Jensen was determined to see how far he could push it. "Sure."

He stepped back, away from Jeff, and when he looked up, there was nothing in his eyes but that cool distance that had been his default when they'd first met.

"I told Dani I'd be in early, before I have to go out to the construction site," Jensen said, as though the last few minutes had never happened. "Leave here around 6:30, if that's okay with you."

"It's your schedule," Jeff said, half-wishing he had something he could punch. Jensen only nodded and closed the door behind him.

***

Jensen didn't even try to sleep, just showered again and changed and made sure he had all the crap he was going to need at the site--steel-toed boots and wrap-around sunglasses and the high-level project plan--ready to go out with him later in the morning. There wasn't any use thinking about what an idiot he'd just made of himself. He didn't have the time anyway, not if they were going to pull this off and not lose everything.

He read through Jared's notes--again--and wrote some of his own, and when the sky finally started lightening, went out to the kitchen and coaxed the Capresso his parents had given him as a housewarming present into making something he could call coffee, even if it was more like espresso on speed. It wasn't like his brain wouldn't appreciate the extra jolt this morning.

Jeff came out as soon as Jensen started making noise, shrugging into his shoulder holster and allowing Jensen to avoid his eyes. Or, hell, maybe he didn't want to look at Jensen any more than Jensen wanted to be looking at him. Jensen wasn't much of a fan of mornings to begin with; this one was looking to set the all time record for bad.

The silence lasted the entire way over to the office, up until Dani breezed in, dressed for client meetings later in the morning, sharp-cut black suit, with sheer black stockings and the wicked heels that got her up out of Munchkinland, as Jared would have said.

"Starbucks in the break room," she called as she went by. "Got all of them with an extra shot and two of everything they had in the bakery case."

"Genius girl," Jensen responded automatically.

"Caffeine and sugar, still the best way to deal with Monday that doesn't need somebody at the door checking IDs." Her voice faded down the hall and for a second, Jensen forgot the rest of the mess.

Just for a second, though, because his phone had started ringing. "Blocked," he said to Jeff, and answered it on speaker.

"Ackles," he said, and knew right away from the odd, faded crackling in the background that it was one of the bad ones. He nodded to Jeff, who already had his own phone out.

"Stall," Jeff mouthed at him, dialing quickly.

_"How's Jared?"_ the synthesized voice asked. _"Must have been hard for you, seeing him laid up like that."_

"What do you want?"

_"You know what I want, Jensen. Back off the Riverwalk development. You already got paid for your pretty design. Just back off now, and nobody else'll get hurt."_

Jensen kept his eyes on Jeff's, steady and calm. Tell him a story, Jeff mouthed, cupping his hand over his mouth to speak softly into his own phone.

"We're not sure what we're doing now," Jensen lied. "Jared drives the construction side, but you knew that already."

_"You wouldn't be telling me a lie, now, would you? Because I'd hate for your crew to accidentally trigger anything … explosive on the site."_

Jensen closed his eyes for a second. "None of my crew is part of this. They're just doing their jobs and in this economy, you can't fault them for that."

_"Well, it's too bad you can't tell me what to do, now isn't it. Tell Dani she shouldn't wear black; it washes her out too much."_

The call went dead, and Jeff's voice cut through the sudden silence, reeling off his badge number into the handset of the landline, before Jensen could even take a breath. "Bomb squad to--what's the address on the site?"

"No address--we're still working off undeveloped land." Jensen tore through his desk and shoved the surveyor's map at Jeff, pointing at the coordinates, and then stopped cold and said, "Jeff--he knew what Dani was wearing today."

He didn't wait for an answer, just took off, rounding the corner to Dani's office, and then the break room when there was nobody there. The break room was empty, too; Starbuck's bags piled haphazardly on the counter and a dozen coffees still sitting on the table. He looped back up to the front, almost skidding into the lobby as he went by and saw her at letting someone in the front door, the big lanyard of keys in her hand.

"Jensen?" Dani eyed his entrance like he was out of his mind, then turned to the guy she'd just let in and said,. "He really wasn't supposed to drink _all_ the damn coffee."

"You didn't even save one for me, did you," Tommy said, smiling at Jensen's open mouth and then down at Dani. "I told you he forgot we were meeting this morning."

Jensen shook his head, like that was going to help make sense of the whiplash. "Um, yeah, I did, totally, sorry. Dani--" He took her elbow; if nothing else, she could give Jeff whatever information he needed, and faster than Jensen could, probably. "We've got--I need to talk to Dani for a minute, real quick, okay?"

"Sure," Tom said. "I know you guys are really slammed. Not to be all up in your face about it, but you both, you're really looking kind of worn down. Washed out."

Jensen froze at the words, his hand tightening on Dani's arm until she hissed. He looked at Tom, and Tom smiled back, just like usual, except his eyes were flat and cold, and he nodded almost imperceptibly at Jensen. He put his hands in his pockets, pushing his suit jacket back just enough that Jensen could see the gun he had tucked into the side of his waistband.

"_Jensen_," Dani hissed. "My _arm_. What the hell is _up_ with you?"

"Sorry, hon," Jensen said, glancing at her and trying to think of something, _anything_. "I'm going in ten different directions this morning, and Tom's right, I forgot we were meeting and double-booked myself." He kept hold of her elbow and half-dragged her across the lobby; Tom followed, of course, but Jensen hadn't really expected anything else. "Could you do me a favor and call Jeff Morgan--his number's on my desk--and tell him I'm not going to make it this morning?"

He could see the _are you out of your fucking mind_ building in her eyes, but there wasn't time to try anything else.

"Thanks, hon." He shoved her back toward his office, and turned to face Tom. "Tommy and I can take the big conference room, okay?"

"That works just fine for me," Tom said, and gestured for Jensen to lead the way.

***

"Okay," Dani snapped, charging into Jensen's office without knocking, the force of her rush taking her all the way up to his desk, where Jeff still was trying to make sure the tactical squads had the right information to get them out to the construction site. "_Somebody_ better tell me what the fuck is going on around here, and since Jensen just shoved me out of the lobby so he could go pal around with Tom Welling, that somebody is going to be you and, please, let's just drop the story about you working for Donna, okay?"

"Jensen's _where?_" Jeff came around the desk, not caring how he sounded for a second. Dani took a half-step back, and Jeff got a grip and dialed everything down a notch. "I need you to tell me what's going on."

"What's going on?" Dani snapped. "You tell me. First off, Tom shows up with some cock-and-bull story about having an appointment with Jensen that he'd forgotten--which, hi, have you ever met Jensen? Mr. Anal Retentive? Forget a meeting? Yeah, I don't think so, I don't care how freaked he is about Jared. Then Jensen drags me--_drags me_, like a caveman--out of the room, and wants me to call you and tell you he's not going to make it. So, hey, here's your call: Jensen's not going to make whatever meeting--_also_ not on the books--you were supposed to be having."

"Where did they go?" Jeff asked, shoving down everything that wasn't this exact moment. "Are they still here?"

"They're in the big conference room," Dani said. "Seriously. What the hell is going on?"

"Can you get around to the front of the building without going by any of the windows in that conference room?" Jeff grabbed a pen from the desk and wrote his badge number as neatly as possible on it. When Dani nodded, he gave her Jensen's phone and the paper and herded her out of the room. "I need you to do that, and while you're doing it, call 911, and tell them the number on that paper, Code 30, okay? 30."

"This really isn't answering even _one_ question," Dani said, but she kept up with him as he hurried her down the hall to the back door of the building. "Code 30?"

"Officer needs assistance, emergency," Jeff said, sliding his badge out of his pocket and showing it to her. "The badge number will tell them Ranger, so they won't be looking for a uniform." He got her to the back door and stopped for a second. "I need you to stay outside, Dani. You meet the Austin cops when they get here, point them to that conference room, but you do not come back in, okay?"

"Here." She looped the lanyard over her head and held the heavy key ring out to him, shaking free a gold key. "This is the key to the conference room door, if you need it."

"Okay." Jeff got her outside the door; she had the phone to her ear before he turned around. He made one fast call to the DPS dispatch, to lay out what was going down, and then dropped the phone in his pocket and left the call connected. The lights were on in the conference room; but the blinds were drawn so he stuck with his initial assessment. Whatever had happened, Jensen had gotten Dani out as fast as possible, and Jeff didn't think that was just because of the telephone threat, which meant a weapon, probably a gun, because nice, All-American guys like Welling didn't like to get their hands dirty with knives.

As he stepped up to the door, he could hear raised voices; two voices and one of them definitely Jensen. Jeff breathed a small thanksgiving.

"--get it," Jensen was shouting. "You've known Jared since he was a kid--were you the one who sat out there and _shot_ at him, or did you hand that off to somebody else, make it easier on yourself?"

"No," Welling snarled, and Jeff didn't like that barely-in-control sound to his voice. "You _don't_ get it. It's gone--everything. It's all gone, and you--if you'd just dropped out of the construction phase, we had the second bid, that would have been enough to get us through. If you'd just backed down earlier, none of this would have happened."

The key Dani had given him fit smoothly into the lock, and with one quick breath, Jeff pushed the door open and stepped in.

Both men turned to stare at him; Jensen recovered more quickly, but Welling threw everything up in the air when he pulled a .32 out from under his suit jacket. Jeff held his hands out, away from his sides, open and easy and as unthreatening as possible.

"Easy, now," he said, with one quick glance at Jensen, before he focused everything back on Welling. "Everything's going to be okay, as long as we all keep calm." He eased a step closer, and again. Welling was all over the place with the pistol; Jeff had been counting on that, but it was still like walking the knife's edge.

"Just… don't," Welling said. "Don't play hero, okay?"

"I'm not playing hero," Jeff said, low and calm. "I don't want anybody getting hurt, so if you can put down the gun, we can all breathe a little easier."

"I think it's too late for that," Welling said, and brought his second hand up to brace his shooting wrist. Jeff reacted instinctively, moving fast enough that he had pretty decent momentum by the time Welling fired. The first shot went high--if you didn't have practice with live ammunition, it was easy to forget how much of a recoil there was, even with something small like a .32--but the second one caught Jeff high on the left shoulder, enough to knock him back a step or two, even as quickly as he'd been moving.

Dimly, Jeff heard Jensen yelling, but Jeff was focused on Welling and how he was fumbling with the gun, his hands shaking so hard Jeff was betting he'd drop it before he'd get another shot off.

"Oh, you're going to have to do better than that, sweetheart," Jeff said, looking Welling straight in the eye as he took the last few steps and knocked the gun away with a quick, hard chop. He might have broken Welling's wrist at the same time, but finesse wasn't exactly at the top of his priority list, especially not with the delayed reaction to the bullet in his shoulder slamming into him. He caught Welling on the point of his jaw with an elbow, putting as much weight into it as he could, and Welling went down like a sack of potatoes.

Jeff would've felt a lot more satisfaction if the conference room wasn't going fuzzy around the edges of his vision; the shot had been high and clean, he knew, but it must have nicked an artery. He stumbled back a step, but Jensen was there to catch him.

"Fucking hell, Jeff," Jensen said. "I thought Rangers were supposed to be smart. The best, right?" He'd pulled his suit jacket off and was folding it up into a square. "Shouldn't you have, I don't know, at least found some Kevlar before you came strolling in here?"

He got Jeff down on the floor and pressed the folded-up jacket against his shoulder, hard, like every Red Cross class said, and most people didn't have the stomach for, but then Jensen wasn't most people, Jeff reminded himself. Jensen leaned down harder; Jeff grunted at the pressure, and felt things go a little grayer.

"Rangers," Jeff said. "We're the craziest ones of the bunch. One riot, one Ranger; right?" He was breathless but otherwise it didn't come out too badly, he thought. "Didn't you know that?"

"I do now," Jensen said, and farther away, Jeff could hear sirens. "Hey, stick around, okay? Don't make me explain this all by myself."

"Yeah, trying," Jeff said. "Talk."

"I think you missed your guess about the trucks being important," Jensen said. "I don't think Tom cared."

"Some theories are better than others," Jeff said. "Still was worth thinking about." He bit down hard on his bottom lip, and added, "Be nice, though. Don't make me think about how fucked-up this whole case has been while I'm still bleeding."

"Okay, yeah, so, so, that first night, you said you painted, landscapes," Jensen said, and that was good, something to focus on. "Any place in particular?"

"Have a house," Jeff said. "Up on the Brazos. Always something I want to get on canvas there."

"And I'm guessing it's not watercolors." Jensen said it with at straight face, but even with everything going blurry, Jeff could see the laughter in his eyes.

Jeff smiled, or at least tried to--he didn't think it worked too well, judging from the expression on Jensen's face.

"It's that peer pressure thing again, isn't it?" Jensen said, and Jeff huffed out a small laugh.

"Oils," Jeff said. "And you're right. Bad enough I paint; watercolors would be really frowned on."

Jensen nodded and said, "So you paint the river?"

Jeff focused and got his brain to talk to his mouth and tried to tell Jensen about the riverbanks and how the light caught them differently at different times and the sirens got louder and louder.

***

Jensen waited six weeks. He ran around from construction site to construction site five days a week, and split his weekends between hanging out with Jared as much as possible and getting as much of his own work done as he could. He called his parents at least once a week, and Mac every day, because they were all freaked out by the news, especially when he admitted that most of the stories he'd seen or read weren't all that sensationalistic. He went down to police headquarters whenever they needed a statement, and went over almost as often to the Ranger headquarters, and gave them whatever they needed for their reams of paperwork.

He worked out that Michael had been sniffing around because he'd gotten wind of the threats and thought it'd be a good time to make a move for a buy-out; Jensen shook his head when Michael admitted all of that--it _was_ an anomaly, just not the one they'd been trying to figure out. Jensen didn't bother with any of the social niceties beyond telling him to get out.

He crossed his 'i''s and dotted his 't's and flossed and did all the things good guys were supposed to do, and worked on fixing the really big issue: Dani.

He and Jared had both been wrong, completely and totally off the mark, and Jensen was going to be kicking himself for it for a long time. Dani hadn't pitched a fit or tried to decapitate either one of them. Jensen wished that she had. Instead, after they'd come clean on everything, she'd turned away from them with so much hurt in her eyes that Jensen was afraid it wasn't ever going away. It had taken her almost a month to really speak to him again, beyond anything that was necessary for work, and when she had, she'd laid it all out for him, all nice and neat, everything from how she understood that things weren't entirely in his control right on up to how they'd done what every other guy had always done: closed ranks against her and left her by the side of the road.

Jensen had stopped pretending that things were okay at that point; ironically, that had actually gotten things to be more okay than they'd been.

So.

Jensen did all the things he was supposed to do, and when he needed a break, he spent his days with a plat book of the land along the Brazos, searching county deeds until he found what he was looking for.

After six weeks, when the DA's office called to say that Tom had taken the plea bargain for multiple counts of aggravated assault, and Jared was out of the hospital and almost out of the cast, and Dani had point-blank told him he was making her crazy and she was getting past things but she might kill him before she got there, Jensen finally threw a change of clothes into the back of his car and headed out to track down the parcel of land he'd found deeded to Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

It only took him a couple of hours to get there, but the last fifteen miles were no picnic in the 'Vette--the roads were barely paved, and the car definitely wasn't built for that, but the view grew steadily more beautiful.

He wasn't surprised to see Jeff standing on the edge of a small, neat cabin when he finally pulled into the clearing. Jeff had to have heard him coming; Jensen took it as a good sign that he came out to meet him. And that he hadn't turned right back around when he figured out who it was for sure.

Jensen cut off the engine and got out of the car slowly, waiting for the _Too little, too late_ greeting he was halfway expecting. Jeff watched him without changing his expression. Jensen stayed by the car, and after a bit said, "I came to the hospital to see you but it was kind of a zoo."

There had always been people there--half the retired Rangers in Texas showed up, as near as Jensen could tell--and it had been busy and both times, they'd said Jeff was sleeping, so Jensen had left without leaving a name, because he wasn't sure if that wasn't frowned upon, too, visiting with a Ranger who'd gotten shot taking care of you.

"And you checked out really fast." Jensen wanted to ask what the doctors had to say about that, but he didn't see where he had the right, no matter how much he wanted it.

"I hate hospitals," Jeff said, with a sigh. "I figured it was you. I don't know too many other people who fit the description I got from all the old-timers." He leaned back against one of the porch columns and studied Jensen for a few more minutes. "I was wondering if you were ever going to show up, but I have to admit, I was more expecting you down in McAllen."

"I tried there," Jensen said. "The lady who's keeping an eye on your house said you were up here for a while."

Jeff looked good, Jensen thought. Tan and relaxed in jeans and a henley, his feet bare and a big, black dog nosing around his legs. He looked great, if you could ignore how his left arm was up in a sling. That didn't even look bad, not unless there was a fair chance that you were the reason it was there.

"You brought the wrong car," Jeff said. "You're lucky you didn't break an axle on the way up."

"Trust me," Jensen said. "I thought about walking in the whole last part, but I'm not really keen on ten mile hikes. Besides," he added, taking a deep breath. "I owe you a look up under the hood, now that we're not on the clock."

"Yeah," Jeff said, with a small smile. "You do." He rolled off the column and turned back toward the door. "Later, though. After dinner."

Jensen followed him into the cabin. It was as small as it looked from the outside, but everything was in perfect proportion and while it wasn't decorated, it was lived in and comfortable, and Jensen could tell that it was someplace Jeff thought of as home.

He leaned against the small bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house and watched while Jeff did something complicated to a stew already on the stove and, judging from the smell, almost ready to be eaten. Jensen had planned to wait, see how the day went, ease into things, but standing there, he needed to know before things went any further.

"Is this--you have to tell me if this is okay," Jensen said. "Or if it's never going to be okay. Do they frown on this now, with everything all taken care of, Tom pleading down, and the case closed?"

"Jen--"

"You know, I'm pretty sure this isn't something where I'm blinded by hero worship. I really am grateful for you getting me out of the way of that truck, but I'm still pissed at you for charging in and getting yourself shot."

Jeff snorted. "You're not the only one." He picked up a big wooden spoon and gave the stew a few stirs, but it was just to give him something to do other than looking at Jensen. Jensen wasn't going to dwell on how much he liked knowing Jeff's tells, except that it was a _lot_. "As far as DPS and the Rangers are concerned, the ethical issues are done."

"And you?"

"Well, there, you'd have a hard time saying. Most of me is saying okay, fine, you met him how you met him. But the rest of me is saying that the other part wants you so fucking bad, I shouldn't trust it. And all of me is wondering if you really want to deal with having a cop in your life. Bad hours, worse pay, no guarantees at all."

Jensen walked into the little kitchen, five normal steps taking him right up against the stove, and took the spoon out of Jeff's hand. "Yeah, I get the part about no guarantees." He made himself touch the sling, run his fingers down the edge of it. "I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't okay with it." He shrugged. "So, here I am."

Jeff let him draw his head down, and the first careful brush of his mouth against Jensen danced along Jensen's nerves like electrical pulses. Jeff let him get away with two more like that before he cupped Jensen's face in his good hand and growled, "You want to kiss; let's _kiss_."

Jensen wanted to do a lot, but kissing was just fine, especially when it turned out that Jeff liked it slow and rough, teeth biting along Jensen's mouth and jaw just hard enough to bruise. Jensen tilted back his head and Jeff took the invitation, moving along his neck with more and harder bites.

A timer went off behind them; Jeff took one last kiss before he stopped to turned it off, and then turned off everything. "It'll hold until later," he said, steering Jensen out of the kitchen and fetching up hard against the wall to the bedroom. "This needs to happen now."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Jensen said, rubbing his hips up hard against Jeff's. Jeff worked a hand between them and both of them groaned at the added pressure. "Bedroom?"

"Maybe." Jeff played with him a little bit more, letting Jensen grind against his hand before finally steering him in the right direction. The bed was huge and covered with a quilt, and the sheets under it were soft with repeated washings. Jensen sat on the bed and took his clothes off, his eyes locked on Jeff's the whole time. Jeff stayed leaning against the door frame, watching with that sharp intensity Jensen had come to associate with him, just never quite like _this_, until Jensen was naked, sprawled out on Jeff's bed, jerking himself slowly.

"Don't stop," Jeff said, crossing the room and sitting on the bed. He reached out and ran the edge of his thumbnail in a long, slow path from Jensen's throat to the base of his dick. The second time, he detoured to tease at Jensen's nipples, left, then right, then left again, and ending with sharp, twisting pinches that sent bright, sparkling shocks over and along nerves Jensen had forgotten he had.

"That's it," Jeff said, adding his hand to Jensen's, casually handling Jensen's dick as though it belonged to him. Jensen twisted and writhed on the sheets, already so out of control he couldn't recognize himself. "That's it," Jeff growled. "Show me how much you want it."

"Fuck, Jeff," Jensen gasped. "Finish it, fuck, please."

Jeff smiled down at him and tightened his fingers around the base of Jensen's cock, until Jensen keened high in his throat.

"Over," Jeff said. "On your belly."

Jensen gasped and panted, but moved as quickly as he could. Jeff helped with a couple of stinging slaps to the inside and back of this thighs, slaps that Jensen could still feel even after Jeff had him the way he wanted him. Jeff opened him up with care, taking his time even when Jensen pushed back and demanded more. That got him another slap or two, enough that his whole ass throbbed as Jeff pushed into him, low warm ache from Jeff's hands riding easily under the sweet sharp burn of Jeff's dick.

Jeff moved steadily, every thrust that much quicker, that much harder, like a freight train slamming down a hill, the brakes already burned out and useless. Jensen got his hand on his dick, working it as hard and rough as Jeff was working his ass, and it took no time at all before orgasm ripped through him, fast, hot waves that dragged him under and held him down, so that he could barely stay up long enough for Jeff to follow.

Jensen would have been happy to have stayed where he was all night, but Jeff had him up and moving, the shower calling his name, as soon as they could breathe again. Jensen considered complaining but Jeff pinned him against the wall and started with the kissing again, so Jensen let it slide. This time.

He ignored the bitching and growling that came when he piled all the stuff on the stove onto a couple of plates and tossed them in the microwave, rather than going through and doing it the "right" way, which apparently involved bringing everything to a simmer on the burners and dishing from there.

The coffee situation--an ancient Mr. Coffee--was really the only thing that was unacceptable. Jensen made a mental note to at least get a French press up there. Jeff let him complain about it for about a minute, but then shut him up with more kisses, and a whispered promise to see how he liked a gag.

"You done with the alpha routine?" Jensen asked, once they were actually back in bed, and yes, it felt very nice to be there clean and fed and all, but that wasn't something he was going to admit. At least not until Jeff pressed the issue--which he would, at some point; Jensen was under no illusions about that.

"For now," Jeff admitted. "But, it, uh, maybe comes with the badge."

"Really?" Jensen said, a little bit of laughter spilling over into his voice, and Jeff grinned at him, dug his hand in under Jensene's ribs until he squirmed. That was good, that was the other part of why he was here, not just how fucking intense it was between them, but that spark of laughter that hadn't gone away even when Jensen had all his weight leaning on Jeff, trying to keep him from bleeding out before the EMTs got to him. "It comes with the star? I hadn't noticed."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to thehighwaywoman and wendy for organizing the challenge and finding a prompt so super-awesome that I braved my phone's web browser on my way to work to claim it (and for extending the deadline by a week because I barely made it even then.) Also, many thanks to 1orelei who (sight unseen) volunteered to be a first reader when I signed up for [ficfinishing](http://community.livejournal.com/ficfinishing) and who kept on cheerleading even when I was just sending a scene here and there, whenever my schedule let me get an email off. 
> 
> And love always to withdiamonds who listened to me whinewhinewhine about this and kept telling me she couldn't wait to read it even though she had to be sick of hearing about it. =)


End file.
